So I had a few slip-ups yesterday.

"Let's now give a round of applause for our um-disting-um-guests to the um front of the stage to light up the Xinmin um word... um formation... darn."

But my sister reassured me that no one was really listening anyway.

But who listens? After the funeral, we tried looking for a place at the Bishan library to study but to our dismay, and contempt, Café Galilee, staying true to the busy-entrepot-trade imagery of its name, was brimming with students who think that studying while sipping a frappe in one hand is oh-so-chic. So, begrudgingly, I paid for my library fines with my cashcard but the evil machine "placed for my convenience" spat my card out and accused me of not using a valid cashcard. Having rarely been insulted by machines, I glared at it while it processed my fines after it finally accepted my ez-link card bearing my drug-pusher mugshot.

We turned back to eat at yoshinoya and ordered our food, though not before making sure it wasn't playing whiney emo punk. And then, while we were talking about the merits of yoshinoya's wasabi mayo, Fall Out Boy started playing on the radio. The boy wearing pmk sitting next to us decided it was an opportune time to play us a song by Simple Plan on his phone as well. We cast murderous glances back, and I went back to doing the Physics Workout book, until the angst-filled strains of Patrick Stump and Pierre Bouvier's voices formed a duet in my head that threatened to squeeze out any last drop of sanity left in me.

So now, as the scorching sun continues to shine down as if mocking us, my sister's doing a sketch of a girl burning her barbie dolls and smirking for art exam, and I'm waiting for my parents to return home with chicken pie from sunshine plaza, and I've just realized it's Saturday.